Oliver’s throat felt tight. The world pressed down on him. He wanted to run away and not look back. Back in Credola, he’d acted on the right idea and ventured off alone. Now, he couldn’t even meet Princess Thalia’s gaze, and not long ago, he’d been tossing her tits around.

Everyone around the table was looking at him.

He quickly typed a message to Eldrin. Zaisy is here. She’s the ladybug girl you met in Highside. How could she be here? Did she die again?

Zaisy had been dragged upstairs, and presently, two bouncers blocked the way to anyone who would follow. They wore uzis in their holsters.

Hunter cleaned under his nails with his dagger. “Maybe we don’t have to fight the whole place.” He scooted his chair back. “I’m going to the roof.”

Oliver muttered that that was a good idea and followed. He saw Hunter scurry to the roof like a spider, but he couldn’t do that. Squashed beside the bar, a derelict storefront with a double deck led to a rusted corrugated roof. He climbed onto a dry rotted railing that popped under his weight as he climbed up. The jump from roof to roof was only five feet, but he still had to force himself to jump. What’s wrong with me?

I cannot say exactly how she got where you are, but it’s within parameters. When an NPC is outside the System, the psychopomps fix them and send them into other worlds. She may have been sent here when you three died. When are you returning?

Oliver gripped the chipped edge of the bar’s tiled roof. When would he return? Why was he here other than to bring back a weapon? His head felt foggy. Was this a good idea?

Hunter lowered himself to a small balcony.

Oliver reached down and accepted Hunter's help to drop from the roof.

The frosted window hid the interior, and it stood fastened closed.

Hunter fiddled with the window, and it came open, revealing a dim room with a rug on a carpet. He Shadow Walked into obscurity. He’d returned, saying the room was filled with women.

“What?” Oliver asked.

“They’re all in lingerie. Zaisy was changing. We’ll have to be quick.”

“The people who run this place are all armed to the teeth. If one of these women alerts them, we’re probably dead.”

Hunter didn’t counter and turned back to the window. “Well, maybe we can talk them into not screaming when we barge in and save her.”

A single overhead light stained the room blue. The women turned, expressions ranging from frightened to disgusted, snapped to the two intruders. They wore scraps of silk and lace and huddled on cushions.

Zaisy stood at the far side, clad in a bra and panties. She covered herself, and her face darkened.

Hunter passed Oliver, raising both palms to show he wasn’t brandishing a weapon.

The women glared. One said, “Ew. I’ve fantasized about a man breaking in and taking me away, but not riffraff.”

A girl with big eyes pointed. “What’s wrong with that one’s face? Why’s he wearing a mask?”

Oliver ignored the question and cleared his throat. “Zaisy, we’re here to take you out of this place.”

Zaisy now looked like she wanted to commit murder. “Who are you?”

Oliver took out her Memory Sphere, and its light threw shadows against the walls. It pulsed being so close to its owner. The blue gave way to white.

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The women flinched back, and one asked if it were a bomb, and then, “Will it explode?”

“Yes,” Hunter lied. “If you don’t all keep quiet and let us talk to Zaisy, we’ll kill everyone.” He may not have been bluffing about the killing. He’d restlessly toyed with his daggers since they arrived in the desert.

When they got Zaisy into the far side of the room with the others as far away as they could squeeze together in the corner, Oliver dropped the sphere into her hand, and her eyes dilated. Then she raised the other hand and slapped him across the face. “Where have you been?” She hugged him but stopped short of crying.

He tried not to think about what she wore or how they were pressed together.

Hunter winced. “We were in another world and had no idea where you were. We just arrived.”

She sniffed. “Ever since I got here, I knew things were wrong, even if I couldn’t remember.”

Hunter gathered an armful of clothing and threw it to her. “You looked angry a moment ago. Are you here for a reason? I take it you weren’t kidnapped.”

“I pretended,” she said. “I’ve been following a Player with a nuke. He plans to detonate it in downtown Las Calas. He’s stopped at every brothel on his way south. I’m setting up a surprise.”

Oliver couldn’t picture her acting so bold in her home world. Was that what was happening to him, but in reverse? Was he reverting to the pathetic mess he’d been because he was back in this retched world? He’d thought he’d grown, but what if it had all been for naught?

“Will still stop this Player,” Hunter said. “But you don’t have to do it alone. Come with us.” He led her to the window and boosted her up.

Oliver followed, and they emerged onto the roof. Below, a dust devil meandered across the main road.

Zaisy pulled a hood over her head when they’d reached the ground, and soon they walked into the same bar they’d broken her out of. She took a seat and stared at the unfamiliar faces.

Elstina took her hand from across the table and said, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

While the table went around introducing themselves, Oliver slipped out and waited for the bartender. He shook a handful of silver. “I need quarters and a hundred bucks.”

She popped open the register. “Jeb says it’s real, it’s real, though I’ve never seen anything like it.” She spilled all her quarters on the counter, held up a stack of fives and tens, and gave him a level look.

They laid their respective currencies down at the same time and swapped.

She closed the register. “Have fun at the strip club.”

Oliver waved his friends to join him, and they walked through the rear door to the bar’s dusty parking lot. He entered the phone booth and tried to remember his uncle’s number. At least he got a dial tone.

Hunter leaned against a battered vending machine, arms folded and whistling. Halfdan and Sigrid crouched in the shade of a husk of a fifties pickup. Zaisy adjusted her large PJ bottoms. Saj fiddled with a dollar bill, holding it to the sun. Elstina scanned the deserted lots. Owen mentioned the dry air was good for his sword. Thalia had her menu open, looking at her stats.

Oliver dialed and waited.

A familiar voice answered. “Who is this?”

“It’s me, Oliver.”

There was a long silence. “You’ve been gone for months.”

“I know. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you what happened. Can you pick me up in Willham?”

“What are you doing there? Never mind, I’m getting my keys.”

Oliver hung up the phone and stepped out. “We have a ride. We should find a place to rest. It’ll be a while.”

They trod a few blocks, ignoring stares from passersby. They forced a broken door at an abandoned house behind a chain-link fence. The interior was dusty, with cracked walls and peeled wallpaper. The group lay down with arms and legs spread to feel cooler in the heat.

Sleep overtook Oliver, and he fought phantom enemies with his swordstaff he couldn’t swing. It banged against too-close walls. He ran behind Elstina, but she left him, saying he was too slow. Cities evaporated in mushroom clouds, and Coda drained the life of Credola, and he watched in despair.

A cool breeze ran over his skin. A fly crawled on his cheek, and he swatted it away. He sat up and saw the last moment of the sunset. He’d slept the whole day. Half his companions sat awake talking amongst themselves. “I’ll be right back. I have to meet my uncle at the bar.”

He briskly walked the sidewalk.

A pitbull followed him for a while and gave a few barks but peed on a trash can and headed down an alley.

Uncle Brent sat in his restored classic car by the pay phone. He eyed him, mouth tightening. “You join a cult?”

“It’s good to see you, too. We have to pick up my friends.”

Brent only gruned.

Oliver slid into the red bench seat and directed him to the abandoned house.

When everyone came out, Brent looked at the motley garb—leather doublets, cloaks, swords, axes, and gowns. “What is going on?”

Oliver rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s... complicated.”

Everyone packed into the two bench seats. Even with two more people, the last car had twice the room. Zaisy turned around and pointed at a truck convoy. “That’s the Player. There’s the nuke.”